


“I can’t function without you.”

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: First Kisses [17]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 08:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14997176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Continuing the series of shorts of possible first kisses between these two. Got a few ideas. Feel free to submit prompts for anything you’d like to see in the comments below or over on Tumblr at lulacat3.





	“I can’t function without you.”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kelvindalegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelvindalegirl/gifts).



> A gift for Kelvindalegirl. Thank you for the prompt!
> 
> “‘Something like: Strike:- "Please don't leave. I need you here in the business, I can't function without you. Please don't make me beg, but I will if I have to.’”

 

Robin arrived back from tailing Redhead to find Strike sat at her desk, staring at the piece of paper in his hand as though it might bite him. He looked up at her as she came through the door, and she saw a brief flash of an emotion that was hard to place - anger? fear? - and then the shutters came down on his expression as they always did.

She moved towards the kitchenette to flick the kettle on. Something in his face had made her heart beat a little faster. “What’s up?” she asked, wondering why she suddenly felt nervous.

Strike was utterly still, now, as though holding himself together. “I was looking for the envelopes,” he said, icily calm, “and I found this.” He held the piece of paper out towards her.

Robin took it, and her heart plummeted. It was her police force application form. She flushed, trembling. This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to start. She had no idea how it _was_ supposed to start, which was why the form had sat in her drawer for weeks. She raised her eyes to his, and flinched away from his piercing stare. She said nothing.

“Are you leaving?” Strike demanded.

“I-I...” she stammered and hesitated. “I just sent off for it on a whim, I wasn’t really...”

“You’ve started filling it in,” he said. He was still glacially calm. She almost wished he’d shout, which was more what she had imagined. She stood, frozen, unable to think of anything to say. How could she even start?

She’d sent off for the form a few weeks ago, following an almost-moment between the two of them, suddenly very afraid that she was going to slip up and let her feelings for her partner be known and mess up a perfect working relationship and friendship. She’d been finding it harder and harder to work with him. Having to keep a constant guard on her feelings, her thoughts, on every word that came out of her mouth, was exhausting. Suddenly working elsewhere, unthinkable just a few months ago, had looked like a safe haven.

What she hadn’t managed to do was come up with a plausible reason for leaving.

She’d expected him to be angry. He’d put a lot of time and effort into training her, and there was more work now than he could manage alone. She hadn’t expected this, this calm stillness. It was almost as though he were holding himself to keep from shattering. She had a sense that he was hurt rather than angry.

“When were you going to tell me?” he asked, his voice flat and steady.

“When I decided if I was really going,” she said shakily. Sudden tears started in her eyes at the thought of actually leaving, leaving the work she loved. Leaving him. She risked another glance at him, and as their eyes met and he saw her tears, she saw pain flash across his face. He was hurting at the thought of her going, too.

Suddenly she was desperate to explain, to stop him feeling the same anguish she did. “I don’t want to go...” she began.

“Then why?” Strike demanded, his calm beginning to desert him. “Why are you even thinking about it?” Panic was rising in him. Had he given himself away? Was she leaving because she felt uncomfortable working for someone who had allowed himself to develop feelings for her? But if so, why was she the one getting upset?

Now all he could think about was the fact that she was considering leaving, but hadn’t made up her mind yet. He couldn’t let her go. He stood, moving towards her. “Robin, please don't leave. I need you here in the business. I can't function without you,” he said. He hoped it sounded like he meant that it was the the work, rather than his very soul, that needed her. “Please don't make me beg, but I will if I have to,” he heard himself add.

She dropped her head, tears spilling down her cheeks now. “I don’t want to go,” she whispered again, and he had to lean in to hear her. “I just can’t stay.”

“Why not?” he asked, gentle now. She was clearly struggling with this.

“Please don’t make me say it out loud,” she said in a shaky voice. “I just... it’s just too painful to be here all day every day, with you. To be around you and not...” She tailed off, scarlet and tearful and trembling. This was definitely not how this conversation was supposed to go. She closed her eyes, utterly mortified.

There was a long pause.

“Robin,” Strike said quietly. “Look at me.”

She shook her head, resolute, dislodging more tears. “Can’t,” she whispered, her eyes still firmly closed. She didn’t see the hope on his face. She missed the fond amusement that twisted his mouth briefly at the sight of her stood there, eyes squeezed closed.

He was close now, she could feel his warmth, smell his familiar musky, smoky scent. Oh, God, he’s going to hug me, she thought. His pity is just what would make this whole sorry mess even worse. She braced herself.

But instead what she felt was the gentlest touch of his lips to her own. She started at the feel of him, and her eyes flashed open, searching his as he drew back a little. She saw affection, amusement, desire, and her heart leapt.

With a little squeal she flung herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him fiercely, joyfully. Strike staggered back a couple of steps and steadied himself, grinning against her mouth, kissing her back. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her closer as she kissed him hard, and then his lips were moving against hers, his tongue exploring, and elation slid into desire. He could feel her trembling all over as he kissed her, and happiness surged through him. That she could be feeling the same way he had been was a miracle.

There was a long spell of quiet as they kissed and kissed each other, and then Robin finally broke away, breathless. She buried her face in his shoulder, still shy, and giggled.

“So, this application form...?” Strike began.

“Shred it,” she answered firmly.

 

 

 


End file.
